


The Fire Within

by KnightRepentant



Series: Last Angel in Heaven [4]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Campfires, Camping, Drunken Kissing, Foreplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 05:32:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11891070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightRepentant/pseuds/KnightRepentant
Summary: Their feelings exposed, The Fallen and his right-hand gun cast aside all doubt.





	The Fire Within

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Внутренний огонь](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14170509) by [Blacki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blacki/pseuds/Blacki)



Cigarette smoke coiled in the air, twisting upon itself like a ghostly serpent. Travis’ tinny voice stammered to itself somewhere in the grass. MacCready watched intently from beneath the brim of his hat as the Fallen arched backwards to tease the last drops of whisky from the bottle. _Skin gleaming, hair mussed like a tangle of copper wire, new bruises on his neck_. The other man flung the bottle hard into the dark beyond their fire, and strode leisurely back to kneel beside MacCready. A fresh plume of smoke thickened the air between them, then the merc wordlessly held out what remained of his cigarette. The Fallen took it, and embers flared one last time. The cigarette died, and he flicked it over his shoulder into the campfire. There was no smug smile, no satisfied grin, The Fallen’s eyes never left MacCready’s as his fingers trailed the line of hair up from his waist, the palm spreading out across MacCready’s abs. Chest hair tugged and snared his fingers as the Fallen felt a heart punching hard at MacCready’s ribs. It was a strong beat, thrumming through his hand and up his arm, and it pleased him in a way he could find no words for, but he had to move on.

                He was above MacCready now, one knee planted between his legs, MacCready’s fingers catching on the curling ponytail at the back of his head. No held gaze now, just brief, muffled moans, almost-words riding gasps for air. MacCready pulled the Fallen’s hips down onto his, hands ducking beneath the fabric, nails dragging…and the world spun until the Fallen lay beneath him. The bigger man sat up with hands clasped behind MacCready’s back, laying kiss after kiss, like burning snowflakes, to his chest and below. The merc’s lips were parted, his breathing slow and deep. One hand came around, fumbling at buckles, snapping belts free. The Fallen tugged MacCready’s trousers past his hips and…stopped, standing at the threshold. Mists cleared from MacCready’s thoughts, _was something wrong? I was_ ready, _damnit!_ The Fallen’s lips brushed against his chest,

                “Sam?” His true name seemed to bring the Fallen back to himself,

                “No worries, Mack, it’ll keep for later. C’mere,” the cold slid away once more as they kissed, as the Fallen snatched the hat from MacCready’s head and put it on his own. He felt MacCready’s laugh reverberate against his chest, light like the embers of the fire. But the flames slowed once again, the ember-dance no longer fleet but flowing. MacCready guided the Fallen’s hand where it was needed, rocking his hips while his lover’s thumb traced the curve pressing hard against the inside of his shorts. It was the anticipation, the imminence of his touch, that made his breath quicken. He pushed hard into the Fallen’s hand, his head beginning to fall back, until the other man could bear the wait no longer. The hand slid deep behind MacCready’s waistband and seized him tight.

                Dry grass prickled MacCready’s backside, but he paid it no mind. A tremble of excitement kept his fingers slipping from the buttons on Sam’s trousers. He stilled them by running his hands up Sam’s hips and around his back, letting Sam’s belly hairs tickle his eyelashes. His eyes flicked up above a playful smile to see Sam’s teeth catch at his lip for an instant. A strong hand found MacCready’s own, guided it firmly past his waist. They shared a look of excitement, and MacCready deftly unbuttoned and tugged Sam’s trousers free. There was the obligatory awkward dance of legs and arms as Sam pulled them over his feet, very theatrically, gaining him another laugh from MacCready. Then, a hand on his heart once again, laying him on the grass beside the fire. Sam’s fingers catching on the bandages, his touch light that he should not press upon MacCready’s bruises and bring pain where there should be none.  The hand left his heart, bound upwards. A finger traced the line of MacCready’s jaw while the thumb teased his lower lip. Sam lay as gently as he could upon his lover and brought their lips together. This was no chaste kiss, no hesitant, embarrassed brush of lips and MacCready let a moan slip past his mouth. One hand was entwining itself in Sam’s thick coppery hair, the other being far less kind in stripping his shorts away.

                Then, at last, they were together. No reservations, no danger, no cloth in the way. Beneath MacCready’s attentive hands, Sam’s skin was hot and smooth, unmarked by hard years in the Wasteland. His mouth wandered along MacCready’s jaw and leisurely down his neck. Sam’s hips pressed down hard and MacCready felt him properly, urgent, pinned against his belly, and it drew a deep sigh from within him. His hand drew red lines down Sam’s backside and thigh, pulling them tighter together. The satisfied huff Sam made told MacCready that his lover felt him too. It was only the haziest thought, the ghost of a desire fulfilled. He was too lost now, in the sensation of skin against skin, of the lick of flame so close at hand, to put words to his thoughts. Indeed it was the fire that tempered their passions. Passion is for the winter nights shared under a thick blanket, each other a barrier against the cold. Here the flames slowed them, made each flex of a muscle a luxurious sensation, made the feather-light drag of fingertips seem to last all night.

                The heat was not the only culprit, of course. The whiskey’s fire that had fuelled them was now burning low. Sam pulled their bedrolls over and they cocooned themselves away from the chill of the night. MacCready lay listening to Sam’s heart, feeling the heat coursing through his blood against his cheek. His right hand lay nestled deep in the covers, his thumb stroking as Sam’s had done against MacCready’s shorts, though with that barrier now gone. Sam’s arms held him tight, strong as ever, and MacCready lay small sleepy kisses onto his lover’s chest whenever the urge took him,

                “I’ve never been with another man before, y’know.”

                “Me neither,” Sam murmured. Their eyes met, “Never wanted to, until now.” The words passed silently between them, and the fire’s loving caress led them down into dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't judge me!


End file.
